


Surveillance (Joss Ships It)

by Zoi no miko (zoi_no_miko)



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Blow Jobs, Exhibitionism, M/M, Masturbation, One-Sided Attraction, Shipping, Surveillance, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2016-02-06
Packaged: 2018-05-18 16:09:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5934619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoi_no_miko/pseuds/Zoi%20no%20miko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She hadn't meant to spy on something so intimate in her attempts to track John Reese. But really, Reese shouldn't be getting naked in front of the windows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Surveillance (Joss Ships It)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [talkingtothesky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/talkingtothesky/gifts).



> For Talkingtothesky, who wanted Joss walking in and discovering Rinch XD

It's taken Joss Carter the better part of a month to finally locate this apartment. A month of careful furtive stalking and lost trails, of John Reese carefully and expertly giving her the slip. She feels like she knows every street, alley and apartment building within this ten block radius so well that she could navigate them in her sleep.

That's what it's taken to find the apartment of one John Reese.

It's beautiful, from what she can tell. big, wall to wall windows to let in the sun, overlooking a quiet little park. Definitely expensive, in this city. The neighbourhood isn't upscale but it isn't run-down either, just a rare, quiet corner of New York. A place to rest. She feels completely safe as she silently scales the fire escape to surveil the surroundings. Despite the apartment's plethora of windows, sight lines into it are surprisingly restricted, partly a result of the park. In the summer the trees would block it almost completely. But it's fall now, with only a few straggling poplar leaves clinging to the trees, and through the scope of her camera she can see just fine.

She can see John clearly, in an easy chair, glass of red wine in hand. There's a languid relaxation in the long, lean lines of his body that she's not sure she's ever seen before. He chuckles and takes a sip of wine, leaning forward in the chair. The smile he gives his companion is intense and promising and completely engaged, and Joss isn't quite sure what to make of the expression. Then John sets his wine glass aside and stands.

She focuses the scope of her camera on the other man in the apartment. Harold, visible in profile in the other chair, adjusts his glasses and follows John with his eyes as the man stands. He's drinking as well, and even through the scope she can see that he's flushed with it, relaxed in a way that's very at odds with the tense, fluttery nervousness she's always seen any time she's met him. Then a slow smile turns the corners of his lips, and she follows his gaze back to John.

John, sliding his suit jacket off his shoulders. Unhurriedly draping it over the back of the chair he's just vacated. Lifting his hands to the collar of his shirt and starting to slowly undo the buttons, one by one.

_OH._

For a moment, she's not quite sure what to do. She'd been fairly certain about them, of course, though it's cute how they try to hide it. But suspecting and _seeing_ are two very different things. She's undeniably intruding. And she didn't come up here to watch, just to verify that this was indeed John's apartment. She certainly didn't come up here to watch _this_. Then, just as John is about to push his shirt off his shoulders, he pauses. His head turns towards her, gazing intently in her direction, and Joss feels her heart stop. What has he seen? Perhaps the glint of the streetlight off the lens of her camera?

For a long moment he looks across the expanse of the square, and Joss holds herself perfectly still, heart pounding painfully in her chest. Then, John's lips twitch into a smile, and he turns his attention back to Harold, murmuring something as he slides his shirt off.

She can't move now, any more than she can deny the arousal that shivers between her thighs as John strokes his hands down his stomach, unbuckling his belt, sliding his slacks down his thighs. He finishes undress himself with the same unhurried ease, piece by piece, until he's standing completely nude in front of Harold's chair, comfortable and unashamed of his nakedness.

Sweet baby Jesus, that man is _beautiful_.

Even with the battle scars that map his body, John Reese is undoubtedly a perfect specimen. Perhaps because of them. Whip-tight muscles of his broad shoulders shift under his skin as he reaches down to cup Harold's cheek, urging him into a kiss as he leans down to claim his mouth hungrily. It's something that's obviously familiar and very welcome to Harold, who reaches one hand up to stroke over John's chest, carding fingers through silvering chest hair as they kiss. Then his fingers smooth down over John's abs to curl around his half-hard cock, and god if that isn't gorgeous too, long and thick between powerfully muscled thighs. 

John's completely hard by the time he pulls back, but completely unconcerned; he sinks down to his knees, tugging Harold's hips forward to the front of the chair, eyes falling closed in unmistakable bliss as he nuzzles his cock through his slacks.

The image of John naked on his knees, completely subservient and completely in control at the same time, is not one she'll be able to ever forget. Since she's somehow already accepted her role of Peeping Joss, she lets herself drink in the scene, the long lines of John's back and the curve of his ass. The question of whether or not John actually knows that she's watching is a moot point; if he'd wanted to avoid the possibility, he shouldn't be giving Harold a blow job in front of the goddamn window. She knows that she won't be able to avoid coming back to this moment later, warm in bed at home. But for now she just drinks it in, letting herself get caught up in their passion.

She can't actually hear them, but it feels like she can. Easy to imagine the groan that Harold must be making, head arched back and bottom lip caught between his teeth as John swallows him to the hilt. To hear the way he gasps, hands fisting in John's neat hair. John is as focused and exact in this as he is in everything else, pulling back to lavish attention on just the head of his cock, stroking the base with one hand as he sucks and licks and teases the underside of his cock with little flicks of his tongue. He seems completely unconcerned with his own arousal. Then, as his lips part over the head of Harold's cock again, he reaches down to take himself in hand. 

Joss hears her own breath catch on a soft, appreciative noise, focusing her gaze on the movement of his hand. John's strong, gun-calloused fingers stroke slowly up and down the thick shaft of his cock, the flushed, arousal-slick head disappearing into his fist, then pushing free again. 

She presses her thighs together, shifting slightly on the fire escape. It's hard to ignore her own arousal, harder still not to think about what it would be like to have her own hands wrapped around the girth of John's cock. She presses her free hand between her thighs before she can think too long about it, rocking ever-so-slightly against the press of her fingers and sighing as the seam of the denim rubs hard against her clit. She thinks about doing the same to John as he's doing to Harold, hungrily licking away the precum that pearls at the slit of his cock, undoubtedly groaning as his lips slide down his shaft again. She imagines touching herself like John is, fucking herself on her fingers as she swallows around the thick girth of his cock again and again.

Silent encouragements fall from Harold's lips as John becomes more enthusiastic, stroking himself more firmly as he bobs on Harold's cock. Joss presses her fingers against herself a little more firmly, sighing as the shift of her hips produces the perfect level of friction. Her breath goes ragged, but she doesn't care enough to stop it. She couldn't look away now even if she wanted to. The sight of John completely lost to pleasure is too alluring, too intoxicating. 

Then John pulls away, leaning back, reaching up to jerk Harold's cock with the same quick, desperate strokes as he gives his own. His gaze is dark and intense as he looks up at him, silent words on his lips. A command. Harold's fingers dig into the arms of the chair, body arched tense, and a shudder of pleasure visibly overcomes his body, eyes falling closed and lips parting in a cry as he comes. John leans forward and jerks his come onto his own chest and shoulders, shining wet against his skin and dark whirls of chest hair, somehow looking even more appealing than before. It's certainly what John's been wanting, and he closes his eyes, a few hard jerks of his fist all that it takes before he's coming, slick spurts shooting from his fingers up onto his own abs and chest.

She doesn't realize how completely caught up she's been in it until her own orgasm catches her by surprise. A shivering rush of heat crackles across her nerves, leaves her gasping, gaze unfocused. She gives in to it, grinding up against the press of her fingers, coaxing another shock of pleasure from her body, then another, letting out a long breath as it finally fades.

When she focuses her gaze on the apartment again, Harold's leaning forward, John's face in his hands, kissing him with tender adoration. The bliss in John's expression warms her in a way that orgasm couldn't, and she finds herself smiling.

Finally Harold stands, turning off the light in the seating area and starting towards the apartment's large bed. John stands as well, still unabashedly naked. But before he turns to follow Harold he looks out the window again, and in the moment before Harold flicks off the bedroom light she sees John raise his hand and give her what is unmistakably a wave.

"Good night last night?" John asks when they meet up the next day, a light and completely unassuming sounding pleasantry. Joss's breath sticks in her throat; she couldn't have answered even if she'd been able to think of one to give. John makes a little hum of acknowledgement as if she's given him the most normal answer in the world, and then they're back to saving the world as if nothing has happened.

She drives by the apartment again two days later to find blinds in the windows. Which is really only smart, but part of her can't help but be a little disappointed.

Ah well. Probably for the best. Still, a naughty little voice inside her head whispers, _You really should have taken just one picture._

~~~ End~~~


End file.
